


we'll get her falling for a stranger, a player

by biotickind



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, F/F, Recreational Drug Use, lol its not a good ending, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biotickind/pseuds/biotickind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanaya meets Rose, and it goes about as well as Rose planned it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll get her falling for a stranger, a player

**Author's Note:**

> this is awful and boring and i wrote it all in one sitting so i mean. aka run on sentences the fic  
> mood music: How To Be A Heartbreaker, She's Not There, Losing My Religion

  


You meet Rose Lalonde on the day after your 22nd birthday, your hair wet from the rain and a cream cheese bagel dangling from your mouth. She was one of the new models showing up for her morning appointment, and you were running late for your job. Her bright, lavender eyes gave you a start, but she smiled, and you smiled around your bagel and opened the door to the agency for her.

  


You learn she has an affinity for the fantastic, particular to those who wield magic, and she gets a twinkle in her eye whenever she consults her Grimmoire. She learns of your love for beings who sustain themselves on blood, particular to novels that may or may not contain several graphic scenes. Her laugh is breathy, her moans even breathier, but there's always something a little off when you hold her hand or her waist when you're curled around her in bed.

  


Dave Strider has the same exact hair color as Rose. At the cafe she tells you to meet her at, he's there with her. _Sup_ , he says, raising his coffee. Rose introduces him as her brother, and she pauses before she says the word _girlfriend_. Dave gives you a sympathetic smile, eyebrows low and eyes tight behind his sunglasses. He gives you a lot of these looks as time passes.

  


You wonder what you should do for your six month anniversary, if you should do anything at all. You've never had a relationship that has lasted this long. Two nights before the day, she fucks you silly and then tells you she's going back to New York to visit her mother for two weeks, starting tomorrow. You swallow the question forming in your throat as she turns from you, intent on sleeping for her early flight. On the day of, you sit on your couch, phone in one hand, a glass of red wine in the other. You send a message. The next morning, there are no notifications.

  


Karkat is your dearest friend, and he is always willing to break into Gamzee's stash to smoke you up. Two joints later, there are tears on your cheeks from laughter, but then you're somehow sobbing into Karkat's hideous turtleneck, _she forgot, she forgot, i fucking texted her, and she forgot_. He squeezes you to him, and Gamzee walks into the apartment to quite the sight. One look at your face, though, and he's offering you his vaporizer, and that gets you higher than you ever thought you could be. It's two in the morning and the three of you are eating cereal out of this one huge mixing bowl, still taking drags from a joint and watching Loony Toons, when you get a text.

Do you miss me? 

  


She's in your lap riding your hand, so, so wet, and she moans into your ear, into your face, your mouth. She shudders and you kiss her collar bone, her neck, something dark and jealous in you stirring. You bite her neck harshly, suck the skin there, you want her marked up and red and blue and purple, _it'll go well with her eyes_ , that dark part tells you. She hisses and pulls your hair down so that your throat is exposed, you grunt at the suddenness, and she licks a stripe up your neck, teases your mouth with her tongue. You press your fingers inside her forward, and she arches, then pulls you close as you feel her contracting around you, pulls her face to your ear again, moans a breathy _i love love love you, i love you._

  


Some of your designs get picked up for a load of money, and you're out celebrating with Rose, Karkat, Dave, Gamzee, and Jade, another close friend of yours and Karkat's. The restaurant is nice, nice enough that it requires a bit of dressing up. You're happy, and Rose is holding your hand, which is surprising. Dave gives you another one of those looks when he sees your linked hands, and Jade is looking...not at you, not at anything, she's been staring at the menu for the past five minutes. The night goes on and Rose is using your shower when Jade calls you: _Kanaya, man, this is so awkward, but your girlfriend was seriously making moves on me all night! You probably didn't notice cause it was, uh, mostly under the table. I thought you should know._ You're still staring at your phone when Rose comes out. She's wearing one of your t shirts; it's one of her tells when she's in the mood. You kind of hate her right now, and you pointedly go straight the fuck to sleep.

  


Now you watch Rose when you go out together, and you don't know how you missed it. She makes eyes at every other woman she comes across, even the occasional handsome man. You're so mad; you shove her into an alleyway and throw her against a wall. You smash your mouth against hers, pull her hips up into yours, and when you feel her smile into the kiss, you snarl. _Easy, Kanaya_ , she says, and later you feel like those two words meant a lot more than they let on.

  


The night before your one year anniversary, you have the slowest, wettest, most desperate birthday sex ever. You work her up and you make her beg, you make her scream your name for the rest of the neighborhood to hear. You keep going at her until she passes out momentarily and only then do you stop. The little alarm on your phone goes off at midnight, and Rose smiles lazily. She wraps her arm around you and whispers, _happy anniversary, i love you, you know?_

  


In the morning she's gone. There's no trace of her in your house, none of her clothes strewn around your room, none of her terrible dark lipstick in the bathroom, and one of your suitcases is missing. You go to call her, but you can't find her name in your contacts, and it takes you a second to realize she deleted it. You never took the time to memorize it. There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You go to the kitchen and sit on a stool for a while, staring at your phone like you'll suddenly remember ten specific digits. Fuck. And the terrible thing is, you knew this was coming. There are --maybe _were_ if she took them, too -- wine coolers in the fridge, _Rose's wine coolers_ , you think bitterly, and fuck if it's eight am, you really don't want to be sober right now. You're almost surprised the pink bottles are still there, and you grab one, rip the top off, and you chug it and reach for another. Four in a row does you good, and you shut the fridge door with a fifth one in hand. There's a slip of paper on the counter you didn't notice before.

  


Thanks for everything.

\- RL

  



End file.
